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Stardom is gaining fast on Denny Hamlin. But Nascar's latest phenom just wants to be Denny from the block

Five minutes ago, Denny Hamlin's Chevy was surrounded by 42 other race cars on the banks of Michigan Speedway. Now it's surrounded by reporters. Hamlin's ninth-place finish in the GFS Marketplace 400 is barely in the books and already the kid is being pounded with variations on the same question: Where does Denny Hamlin stand?

Where does he stand in the Chase for the Nextel Cup? Where does he stand among NASCAR's alltime greatest rookies? Where does he stand among the storied lineage of racers from the Virginia Commonwealth? And where the hell is he going to stand so he can talk to all these reporters?

If the 25-year-old Hamlin seems uncomfortable in the August heat, it's easy to understand why. On May 15, 2004, he cheered from the grandstands as Dale Earnhardt Jr. won at Richmond. This May, Hamlin watched Junior win there again, but this time his view was from Little E's back bumper, just 572/hundredths of a second off the lead. Hamlin's life isn't just moving quickly. Spend a few days with him away from the track, and you'll see that his double life—his aw-shucks past and his big-bucks present—are colliding at redline speed.

"He's still the guy who used to stand in line for autographs, even though he's now the guy signing them," says Tony Stewart, Hamlin's teammate with Joe Gibbs Racing. "He's just Denny."

And the trick is to stay that way.

"I don't have to teach him how to drive, but I can help him not make the same mistakes that I made," Stewart says. "Don't lose touch with the guy you really are, the one everyone liked when you got here. If you do, they won't like you so much anymore."

Thing is, as Hamlin leaves Michigan for his home in Davidson, N.C., his mind is preoccupied with a much larger problem—10,500 square feet larger, to be exact.

TEN MINUTES north of Charlotte and 17 hours after the Michigan race, Hamlin hammers his way down an off-ramp in a black BMW 750Li, driving with his left hand and texting with his right. A stack of stress rides shotgun: pages ripped from home decor magazines and carefully organized by girlfriend Kristin Buntain.

"I know that I should be all worried about the Chase," Hamlin says, "but I've got to be honest—I'm losing a hell of a lot more sleep over buying this new house." The comment causes him to hesitate on a high-side pass around a frozen-food truck. "I should have gone for it. Ricky Bobby would have gone for it."

Going for it hasn't been an issue. When Hamlin graduated from karts to stock cars as a teen, his mom, Mary Lou, sold her Camaro to pay for his ride. Three years ago, when his self-funded team was down to its last roll of quarters, he convinced local legend Jim Dean to put him in a car. The following fall, Joe Gibbs and Reggie White asked Hamlin to shake down their driver-development car. He blistered the stopwatches right out of the Hall of Famers' hands.

Gibbs' son, team president J.D., put Hamlin in the FedEx-sponsored Cup car last October after zero wins in 35 tries in NASCAR's Truck and Busch Series. FedEx brass wanted a veteran, but Hamlin won them over with three top-10s in seven races. In less than two months, he went from anonymity to JGR's hottest prospect since Stewart.

At the moment, though, Hamlin is focused on mortgages, plasma screens and some truly putrid wallpaper. There's also the issue of his new neighbor. "See that house next door to the one I'm buying?" he asks, as he pulls into the water wrapped cul-de-sac. "That's Coach Gibbs' house. Guess that rules out any really loud parties, huh?"

After an afternoon of switching swatches and comparing color palettes, Hamlin looks forward to Tuesday morning. It's shop day, a weekly visit to the sprawling headquarters of JGR in Huntersville, N.C., where 35 cars sit in perfect formation on the prep area floor: 12 for Stewart, 12 for Hamlin and 11 for fellow frosh J.J. Yeley.

Hamlin, the youngest guy in the room today by nearly half, debriefs with crew chief Mike Ford and engineer Mike Wheeler, who are trying to figure out his sluggish restarts. Was it something in the carburetor? Maybe the gearing?

Bristol is three days away, and the crew is busy packing its 18-wheeler. During his not-sodistant days on the bullrings of southern Virginia, Hamlin was the one making sure the
axle was greased and the plugs were clean. Now there are a couple of dozen guys to do the dirty work for him. With that in mind, he skips the usual pass through the PR office and the autograph gauntlet of the gift shop and viewing area. It's time for something more important. "Anybody going to lunch?" Hamlin yells to the crew. "I'm buying!"

"The guys definitely react better to a driver who knows his car," Ford says. "So much of this is in the hands of the engineers that most young guys just jump in and go. Denny wants to know what we're doing, and he's careful with the car because he knows how hard it is on everyone when a car is torn up. You work harder for a guy like that."

Two days ago, Hamlin won $81,175, boosting his season take to nearly $3 million (not even half of his likely total earnings from salary and endorsements). One hour ago, he picked up a 25-man lunch tab at the Hickory Tavern. He owns a Lear 31A, two houses, one apartment, two cars and an SUV, and he's surrounded by a staff of pilots, business managers, PR reps and mechanics. It's enough toys and employees to make any guy move up a few helmet sizes. That's where Hamlin's other team comes in. "Look here," he says, holding up his phone to show a text message. "My boys in Richmond are all over me."

The message—"WHAT TIME U COMING? BRING ME SOME DH STUFF"—is from his boyhood buddy Ronnie Hixson, ringleader of the band back home. Hixson works in construction and doesn't need any magazines to tell him how to decorate his home. Each room is filled with FedEx black, purple and orange. There are Hamlin posters on the walls, cardboard stand-ups in the den and an entire wardrobe embroidered with Hamlin's signature. "I get shipped two of any item made with my name on it, for approval," Hamlin says. "At least one goes to Ronnie. I got in some nice pink women's apparel this morning …" He pauses and rolls his eyes.

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